


will you be the sansa to my margaery?

by wvlfqveen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, F/F, cis dude being gross in yet another fic of mine oops, lydia martin is actually a nerd pass it on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 21:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4720508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wvlfqveen/pseuds/wvlfqveen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison just wants to read her book in peace.</p><p>A gross dude and a beautiful strawberry-blonde someone have other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	will you be the sansa to my margaery?

**Author's Note:**

> this story was inspired by one of the countless au lists going around tumblr; this particular story is a "this dude is hitting on me on the subway can i sit with you oh my god are you reading asoiaf" au

The subway car Allison got in on her way home from work was nearly empty, something she was infinitely grateful for. She’d had a long day today; her students gave her more trouble than usual, which really said something since Allison taught French to teenagers. She understood that languages, especially one like French, weren’t for everyone but it was hard to remember that when her head hurt like it was planning to split apart. 

She flopped down in one of the seats near the center of the car and looked around. There was an old lady reading a magazine across from her a few seats down, a haggard-looking, bald business man farther down going through some documents, a semi-drunk, scruffy-looking man slouching in the back, and another person sitting cross-legged in the row across from him. They were dressed very sharply; probably a CEO, Allison thought. They had a black pencil skirt on, and they had discarded their jacket beside them, revealing a fancy white blouse. Their strawberry blonde hair was in a slick bun at the back of their head, and they were wearing expensive looking sunglasses. Their lips looked very full and red; lipstick, she realized belatedly.

She got comfortable as the train started moving, pulling out “A Storm of Swords”; she was past the Red Wedding, thankfully; she didn’t feel like crying on the train. 

She was well into the story when a slurred voice broke the blissful silence. “Hey, fancy lady.”

She looked up; the drunk was talking not to her, but to the person in the pencil skirt. They didn’t respond, predictably enough, but Allison noticed a muscle in their jaw clench. 

She sighed and tried to concentrate on the book again.

“Too high and mighty to talk to us, huh? Those heels don’t say nothing like that, baby.”

Allison looked down at their feet. They were wearing black pumps that made their legs look miles long. She blushed and looked back to her book. 

“Come on, sweetheart”, he nagged. 

Allison looked up, annoyed now. He had moved closer to them, leaning in their personal space. “I bet I can make you come…down to earth”, he said, suggestively. Allison got the urge to throw her book at him. 

Apparently, the person had similar feelings because they got up sharply, gathered their suit jacket and purse, and walked purposefully towards Allison. She looked at them in surprise as they settled in the seat beside her. They pushed their glasses up to their hairline and dumped their stuff in the adjacent seat. Up close they were even more intimidatingly stunning, and their eyes, previously hidden by the shades, were a bright green, emphasized by the winged eyeliner which looked impeccable even in this heat. 

“Finally, someone around my age with good taste in fiction”, they said, eyes slightly wide in what looked like a silent plea for help. Allison understood perfectly.

She smiled her characteristic smile, the dimpled one that tended to put others at ease. “You’re a fan, too?”

“That’s an understatement”, they sniffed, crossing their legs. Allison tried hard not to stare. “I’ve read all the books. Now I’m just waiting for the last one to come out so I can live the rest of my life in peace.”

Allison laughed, which was the moment the man chose to amble up to them. “Sweetheart, we was having a nice conversation back there.”

She gritted her teeth, expression darkening. “ “Nice” is a relative term in your case, sweetheart”, she cut in sharply, trying not to inhale the alcoholic fumes coming off of him. 

He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. He was actually good looking if you got past the scruffiness that did not suit him at all, but it was all marred by his attitude and the fact that he was drunk and trying to pick up people on the 5 pm train. 

“You can join in later, hon”, he suggested, leering. 

“I don’t fucking think so”, she said, giving him what her father called the “Victoria Argent” look, and what Stiles, her friend, had called the “I’m Planning Your Murder Right Now” look. 

She was satisfied to see him falter. He turned around stiffly, muttering about “cold bitches” under his breath. Luckily for him, the train stopped and he got out, or Allison would have drop-kicked him into the tracks, dignity and exhaustion be damned.

The person beside her sighed in relief. “Finally. Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for. I hate men like that.”

“You must have lot of fun on the train every week.”, they said, bitterly. 

“You have no idea”, she said, just as bitterly. She extended her hand for a handshake. “Allison.”

“Lydia. Lydia Martin”, the person said, shaking her hand firmly. Their nails were manicured to a T, acrylic nails sharp as claws and a bright red that matched their lips.

Allison tilted her head. Then she felt her eyes widen. “You wouldn’t happen to know Stiles Stilinski, would you?”

Lydia’s eyes narrowed. “As a matter of fact, he’s my secretary and friend, why?”

Allison giggled. “He’s in my circle of friends. His best friend and I used to date.”

Lydia frowned, lips slightly pouted. I’m being tested, Allison thought. “And you’re still in the same social circle?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “It was a mutual break up. We’re still close and he’s dating another friend now. We’re cool.”

“Wait”, said Lydia, looking at her intently. “You’re Allison Argent.”

“Stiles talked about us, huh?”

Lydia's lips twitched. “I don’t think he knows how to NOT talk.”

“That’s true”, acquiesced Allison.

A moment of comfortable silence passed between them until Lydia pointed at her book. “So, who is your favorite character?”

“Is this a test?”, asked Allison, only half-joking.

Lydia just raised her eyebrows.

“I’m very fond of the Starks. Don’t make me choose between Sansa and Arya, I can’t do it.”

Lydia stared at her for a moment, then nodded. “Good enough.”

Allison laughed. “Well, who’s yours?”

“Margaery”, replied Lydia with no hesitation.

Allison leaned forward unthinkingly. “Okay, this is my test. Aren’t Sansa and Margaery totally in love?”

Lydia burst out laughing as if Allison had caught her by surprise. She looked even more beautiful when she laughed; Allison wanted her to do it again as soon as she stopped. 

“Well, obviously.”

“Good enough”, quipped Allison.

Lydia smiled at her and leaned forward. Her hand came to rest on Allison’s knee. Allison tried very hard not to react. 

“Allison”, murmured Lydia “will you be the Sansa to my Margaery?”

It was Allison's turn to burst out laughing. “Is that your way of asking me out? Is Lydia Martin secretly a nerd?”

Lydia just raised an eyebrow. Her hand moved a few inches higher. 

Allison’s heart was loud in her ears. “Okay.”

Lydia stared at her for a moment, then smirked. “Good enough.”

Allison fucking loved the subway.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments/kudos welcome and appreciated !


End file.
